


you broke the dark and my whole earth

by Luthor



Series: offerings to the bees [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, PWP, Tentacle Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 11:54:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17120882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthor/pseuds/Luthor
Summary: "There are few secrets that Leliana does not know, and less still that she does not keep like a handful of cards pressed tight against her chest, and hidden.Which is why, when she stumbles by chance upon a hot spring buried deep in the surrounding mountains of Skyhold, untouched and untold of, she ensures that it remains that way."In which Morrigan exercises her generosity, and Leliana is bad at sharing.





	you broke the dark and my whole earth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tieflings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tieflings/gifts).



> Please... read the additional tags for warnings.
> 
> I wrote this for a friend who's dead-set on ruining my life, one kink at a time, and do not expect this to get much traction here. If this is not your jam, kindly exit out of this fic and have a good day. :)

There are few secrets that Leliana does not know, and less still that she does not keep like a handful of cards pressed tight against her chest, and hidden.

Which is why, when she stumbles by chance upon a hot spring buried deep in the surrounding mountains of Skyhold, untouched and untold of, she ensures that it remains that way. She redirects her eyes and ears to either side of the path that she takes up, when she can, to where the hot water steams the snow from the black rock that holds it. There are few reprieves to be had, in this new and vastly troubled age, and little time for the spymaster to indulge in them if there were.

Josephine has her chocolates, Cassandra has her novels. Even the Inquisitor is known to disappear into the depths of the castle, where the books are thick with dust and faded elven scripture, and the horrors between the pages are ancient and long-defeated.

Leliana— she has her hot spring.

It is after one particularly arduous night, with her eyes still sore from straining by the candlelight long after the sun had set and then risen anew, that Leliana takes herself out into the mountains. The walk is steep and unforgiving, but the promise of the hot water and a few hours’ rest keeps her going. There’s something remarkable about the land, or else the people who once occupied it— the water has a way of sinking into her battle-aged bones, her very spirit, and mending the cracks that years of servitude have wrought through her skin.

It is worth the trek, by any means, for how renewed her body and mind will feel after she’s spent a time soaking.

She is red in the face by the time she reaches the slight incline that leads to the hot spring, and sweating. The cloaks that she wears are tattered but reliable, and already heavy with snow, that the weight of carrying them on her back has her hunching as she scrambles her way around fallen and jagged rocks.

On the decline down to where the hot spring sits, sunken between the base of two mountains, Leliana slips and skids and comes down the wrong way on one foot.

She is still cursing and clutching her ankle when the sound of splashing water turns her blood cold.

Her head snaps up, and even as she registers the sight before her, her hands reach automatically for the bow at her back and load an arrow. Ahead of her, with arms crossed against the black rock surrounding the hot spring, and her head resting upon them, Morrigan eyes her with waning interest. She is obscured but for her arms and the very tops of her shoulders, which are bare and deceptively slender, for Leliana well knows the muscles that lie beneath. Morrigan’s hair is a pile atop her head, with loose ends wet and sticking to her exposed throat.

Leliana does not lower the bow. “What are _you_ doing here?”

Contempt presses against her temper when Morrigan simply raises a hand to rest her chin in.

Her voice is a languid, raspy murmur when she shrugs and says, “The same as you, I imagine.”

“How did you learn of this place?” Leliana asks her. “Have you been following me here?”

“My, we are paranoid, aren’t we?” Morrigan laughs, low and rough, like a coil of smoke seeping past her lips. She presses back away from the rocks, fingers against the edge of it, and tips her head down to Leliana’s bow. “Put that thing away before you poke somebody’s eye out, and get in here. T’is the perfect temperature.”

Morrigan releases the rock to tip herself backwards into the spring, closing her eyes. She is modestly hidden by the water, but Leliana does not miss the tempting curve of her exposed throat, wet with steam and sweat. She swallows thickly and wets her lips, becoming impatient. She had not trekked all the way out here to _share_.

“I am not bathing with you here,” she snaps. “I found it first. Get out.”

Morrigan does not open her eyes.

“No, shan’t.”

Well, then.

Temptation draws her arrow further back against her bowstring. As if all those years spent running on too-many-legs through the wilds had sharpened her hearing into something superhuman, Morrigan smiles against the near-silent tightening of the weapon. Leliana almost releases the arrow out of spite, but controls herself. She loosens the arrow and lowers her weapon with a sigh.

“Stop your pouting,” Morrigan calls, lifting her head long enough to gesture towards Leliana’s injured ankle. “The water will relieve that, you know.”

Leliana does know, and it’s the only thing that has her peeling the bow and arrows from her back and undressing.

“Move over,” she tells Morrigan, who slips further back into the hot spring, disappearing until only her nose and eyes are above the water – keenly watching Leliana like a cat in the dark. Her gaze lingers the way it had lingered all those years ago, from atop the highest reaching arcs of their campfire, yellow-bright like the flames and just as dangerous. “And do not look so smug. I’m only staying because it’s too far of a journey to make without first soaking a while.” She slips into the water and turns her back to Morrigan, so that she might pretend that she is alone.

Morrigan’s gaze, as present as a hand against the back of her neck, prevents the delusion.

Still, the water is as hot as expected, and already sinking into her muscles. Leliana has had massages far more expensive and less effective than this. She sinks into the water and it almost does not matter that she has company; the burden of her work is lifted, however briefly, and the reprieve is too great for her to consider feeling guilty.

“There were tomes on Skyhold, I trust,” Morrigan speaks up from somewhere behind her, displacing the mood, “when you first arrived. Had none of them mentioned the magic in the land here?”

“No,” Leliana sighs, closing her eyes. She sinks further into the water, as though that could deter her companion. “There was very little to find, that could be translated.”

“T’is as though the earth is saturated with it,” Morrigan continues, as though having not heard her. “There must have been a great abundance of it, at a time, and then for whatever reason its source disappeared. It has sunk into the mountains with nowhere else to go, no greater purpose, no function.” Her voice moves steadily closer, drawing a crease to Leliana’s brow. “Although, I can barely begrudge the waste, while here.”

“Yes,” Leliana agrees. “Now, please, stop talking. I am trying to relax.”

“Relax?”

Leliana releases a frustrated-come-relieved noise as hands find her beneath the surface of the water, thin and powerful against her waist. She cannot help but sink into them. The pointed tip of Morrigan’s chin digs not-uncomfortably into one shoulder, and her breath is warm and sweet when she says, against Leliana’s neck, “You know you need only ask.”

Those same hands snake along her waist, travelling up and then down, missing both her breasts and the thatch of red curls between her legs.

She is well familiar with Morrigan’s seduction techniques, already, and Morrigan is well familiar with how Leliana likes to be seduced. Still, the water has her limbs heavy and her mind lax, and she is tired more than she is aroused. Loathe as she is to admit it, Leliana could spend an hour alone where she is, with Morrigan’s hands upon her, and is sure she would fall asleep standing if the other woman would allow it.

Unbeknownst to Leliana’s thoughts, Morrigan’s hands slip finally up to her breasts, cupping them beneath the water. She gives a testing press of her fingers, and Leliana hums despite herself.

“I’m afraid,” she says, drowsy, “that it will take more than that, today.”

The hands around her breasts hesitate, barely, before the movement continues. Finally, those sharp fingers find and pinch her nipples, and the dull spike of pressure has Leliana opening her eyes with something of a smile. Morrigan buries her face into her throat, pressing kisses to the skin there, and just the hint of her teeth.

“You spend too long at your desk,” she grumbles, and Leliana feels herself smile, detached.

She thinks Morrigan will lose interest and stop, when something beneath the water brushes against her leg. The hot spring is too small and shallow for fish, and Leliana dismisses it as Morrigan shifting her footing—until it happens again. The movement becomes more precise, the third time, not a hand exactly but an appendage that moves with just as much accuracy along Leliana’s thigh. She stiffens as it slips lower, then wraps around her ankle.

Behind her, Morrigan is very still, expectant.

Leliana tries to sound unaffected when she asks, “What is that?”

She can _feel_ the smile in Morrigan’s reply: “ _More_.”

As she says it, a second appendage begins the same journey against her other leg, until it too is wrapped around the ankle. With some surprise, Leliana realises that her stance has been spread wide, her feet held to the murky bottom of the hot spring, not-uncomfortably. She tests her new restraints and finds them pliable – easily broken, if need be, but intrigue stills her.

“What are you doing?”

Morrigan presses her face into her throat and chuckles. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

A third appendage appears as if out of nowhere, finding Leliana in the water. Morrigan releases her breasts and the longer, thinner limb snakes up her torso to replace one. It wraps around her breast loosely, mimicking the gentle squeezes that Morrigan’s own hands had been doing, just before. Just as Leliana begins to doubt it will come, a fourth appendage appears, taking care of her other breast.

Morrigan’s hands settle against her hips, digging briefly into the supple flesh there.

“Need I continue?” she asks, and Leliana bites her lip.

This is not her first tumble with the witch of the wilds, by far, but it has always only been _Morrigan_ that she has lain with— with two hands, and two feet, and a red and wicked mouth that has scorched a litany of curses into her skin, as it has blessings. Always human, if she can call her that, always _her_.

Below the surface of the water, Leliana reaches her arms back until she finds Morrigan, and grasps her loosely by the hips in return. She is solid, and present, and gently bobbing with the water and the movement of all those new limbs. Leliana cannot deny the spark of excitement, low like a new-born fire in her belly, at the idea of continuing.

So, “yes,” she tells her, and is not disappointed.

A third pair of appendages appear with tentative touches along her arms, before she is shackled at each wrist, her arms brought out wide away from her. Leliana’s head rolls back against Morrigan’s shoulder, her eyes closing, and Morrigan steps readily forward to take her weight. She is soft breasts against her back, and the crescent-moon fingernail imprints in her hips.

In the water, taking a distracting path up one of her legs, another tentacle-like appendage slithers along Leliana’s skin. There is no doubt of its intended destination, and Leliana can do nothing but strain towards it as it finally, finally reaches her—touches her, right between her legs. It feels thicker than the other six, and far more purposeful as the broad tip of it strokes between her folds, back and forth until she is gasping.

Behind her, breathing heavily, Morrigan presses her forehead to Leliana’s temple and sighs.

“More,” Leliana gasps, as the tip presses and pushes against the button of nerves between her legs, then back down to where she is aching to be filled. “ _Inside_.”

“Yes,” Morrigan hisses, and their satisfaction comes in matching groans when the tip of the tentacle presses against the tight ring of muscles at her entrance. There is scant resistance, enough that Leliana turns breathless and dumb until the bulbous head of the tentacle pushes inside of her. It is slow and stretching, thicker than anything she has had inside of her since the sky cracked open and the spoiled heavens began spilling out. Still, she rocks herself into it, gasping at the burn.

It’s almost too much, as the tentacle makes a slow retreat without completely leaving her, and then pushes back in—further, deeper—until Leliana is gasping and mewling, and would have likely fallen face first into the water, had Morrigan not kept a death grip against her hips. Behind her, steeling herself, Morrigan slips open-mouthed kisses along Leliana’s throat and shoulder as the tentacle begins moving inside of her with something of an unpractised rhythm, _fucking_ her.

It is a slow pace, gentle and torturous, twisting and pressing and pulsing inside of her.

Leliana bites the inside of her cheek to keep from keening aloud, but behind her Morrigan is much more giving with her pleasure; her groans come quiet and loud and louder, as the appendage inside of Leliana begins to pick up speed. A twist in direction, so that the thick head of it presses dextrously against her upper inner wall, causes Leliana’s entire body to straighten. She gasps, hips jerking.

Enthralled, Morrigan repeats the gesture until Leliana is weeping with pleasure.

Her head thrashes against Morrigan’s shoulder, her eyes closed, mouth open.

She feels her climax building with a burn at the base of her heels, pushing its way up, preparing to consume her.

“Come here,” Morrigan grunts, lifting her head. She uses one hand to turn Leliana by the chin towards her, a strain on her neck, and kisses her. The angle is awkward and there is too much tongue – too much teeth – but neither have it in them to complain. When Morrigan draws away, her eyes are glazed and bright and burning, and Leliana wants nothing more than to fall into them, to let them swallow her whole.

The hand against her chin retreats, briefly, only for Morrigan to touch a thumb against her gasping mouth.

Slowly, without breaking eye contact, Morrigan presses her thumb past Leliana’s lips, and Leliana can do nothing but draw it further in, as the twisting tentacle thrashes inside of her. She sucks on Morrigan’s thumb and sees in the other woman’s eyes, sharp and plaintive, that she would much prefer it be something else that Leliana flicks her tongue against, hollows her cheeks around.

Finally, Morrigan groans and closes her eyes, letting her head pitch forward slightly.

Her hips have taken to canting against Leliana’s rear, unable to stop herself, and Leliana knows it as much as she feels it coming within herself— she is _close_.

It does not take Leliana much longer, after that, for her walls to tighten around the appendage inside of her, for her to pulse and moan and rut her hips as far as her restraints will allow. Sensing her approaching orgasm, Morrigan straightens behind her. She places both hands on Leliana’s hips and holds her tight as she picks up speed within her, fucking her harder, faster, until involuntary noises are torn from Leliana’s throat with every thrust inside of her.

“Andraste, _preserve me_ —!” she gasps, straining, and comes with a shout.

Still inside of her and straining, Morrigan pushes into her again, twice, and on the third thrust she wraps her arms tight around Leliana’s middle and cries out. Shuddering, shaking, she holds herself there while the tentacle slows and then stills inside of Leliana. Her body spasms around it, the climax bleeding from her and out into the water, until she feels boneless.

It takes longer still for the tentacles to begin their slow retreat.

They disappear back into the dark of the water, and Leliana has to work to keep her knees from buckling without their support.

Once the last of her extra appendages have disappeared, Morrigan falls heavily against Leliana’s back. It takes some manoeuvring to reach the edge of the hot spring, and once there Leliana turns and accepts the dozing brunette against her chest, instead. Morrigan is limp and warm and settled against her, and Leliana is perfectly relaxed and awake that she cannot help but marvel at the sight, now, of how small Morrigan can look when she’s curled up in her arms.

“Good to know I can still tire you out,” Leliana says, brushing a coil of loose, wet hair away from Morrigan’s throat.

Yellow eyes open, narrow, and then close again.

“Shush,” Morrigan grumbles against her chest. “I’m trying to sleep.”

“You have an hour,” Leliana tells her, running a hand along Morrigan’s shoulder, along her back. There’s a pleasant strain in both arms that the water is doing wonders to cure; by the time she leaves the hot spring, she’s sure she will not feel it. “And, I meant what I said earlier. This spot is mine. Stop following me.”

A grumble of a chuckle reverberates through Morrigan’s body.

“Fancy that I might have changed your mind, just now,” she hums, and Leliana makes a dismissive, if amused noise. Morrigan lifts her head to see her, and there is something stark and beautiful about her face, flushed as it is and damp with sweat. When she kisses Leliana, it is generous and warm in the ways that Morrigan can be, when she lets herself, when she _wants_ to be— when she’s too tired to be anything but. “I believe you could be convinced to let me come again, don’t you?”

Leliana cannot help but smile, even as she shakes her head.

“You are incorrigible,” she says, but it isn’t a _no_.

 


End file.
